So I’m not sure what I’m saying here,
Something keeps slippin’ and I’m kinda sick of this super sad surmisin’…
That’s not surprisin’, I’m just sippin’ salad from this stoner’s pipe hand,
Slippin’ up on cigarettes and sick regret,
Someone save me from this sad slacker’s mindset,
But know this: I’m not upset,
This life it appears isn’t yours to inspect,
And that’s okay, I’m mostly intact,
I’m not set on this path to start to backtrack.
So I’ll write it out for You,
This song’s just between me and Truth,
I am not here to brag my bruise,
But I’d be lyin’ if I said this wasn’t here to use.
Jesus, You are my career,
God, You’re what I hold near.
I am so totally inadequate,
And I constantly feel addicted,
To this mad dictation, to constantly going on vacation,
To my own mortification, self immolation,
Tyranical, fannatical, protesting my own role and vocation,
Save me from my inept and impractical self attacks, I’m chasin’,
After empty bottles in an alley of recycled reality, this whole life is shakin’…
I’m so glad You’re close anyway,
I’m so thankful that You draw near to this fray,
I couldn’t do this any other way,
Thank You for Your grace, it blows me away.